


Day 354

by paperjamBipper



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Affection, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Reunions, SO MUCH AFFECTION, let them be happy, they missed each other so much okay, with a few tiny liberties taken here and there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-30 00:20:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12642252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperjamBipper/pseuds/paperjamBipper
Summary: If he had more time, if he weren't petrified in terror, Mike would grab his walkie talkie to radio for El one last time.  He'd use the opportunity to say goodbye, and he'd finally tell her how he really feels about her.~~A closer look into exactly what was running through Mike's head during his reunion with El.





	Day 354

He’s going to die.

No, seriously. Mike Wheeler is truly, fully convinced that he is about to die.

It makes sense that he thinks so, too. Hopper and Nancy both have rifles, Steve has his nail bat, and even Lucas has his wrist rocket. Everyone else has reasonable weapons that could realistically, even if only for a few moments, fight off a pack of bloodthirsty demodogs from the Upside Down.

But what did he grab? What was the first thing he reached for in a blur of panic, when he needed to grab something, _anything_ that he could use to defend himself?

A _trophy._ Not even one worth any value. It’s an old participation award trophy Will “won” at the middle school’s art gallery a few years ago. What kind of piece of shit weapon is this? What’s he even going to do with it when they all come swarming in? Throw it at them? Yeah, great weapon of choice, Wheeler. He tries to throw this tiny trophy smaller than his head at them and all that’ll do is make them angrier.

He’s going to die.

If he had more time, if he weren’t frozen in terror, he would radio El one more time to say goodbye, and he’d use the opportunity to tell her how he really feels about her.

Sure, they kissed last year, and he offered to take her to the Snow Ball together as more-than-friends, but that was about the gist of it. Even when they were alone, even when Lucas and Dustin were off raiding the cafeteria kitchen for pudding cups, and he had the opportunity to tell her, Mike chickened out.

 _You go to the Snow Ball with someone you like,_ he’d told her. _Someone who’s more than a friend._ And even if it was true, he did like her, and he really did want to take her to the Snow Ball, it wasn’t the entire truth.

He likes her so, so much more than that.

He wanted to keep her safe. He wanted to hold her hand and tell her everything was going to be okay. He wanted to protect her from all the bad men who were after her. He wanted to reassure her that after the whole ordeal was over that they _would_ go home together, and he would make her the biggest stack of Eggo waffles with whipped cream and chocolate anyone had ever seen, just to make her smile, because she has the cutest smile he’s ever seen. He wants to make her laugh, because he never heard her laugh, but he’s sure she has the kind of laugh that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside and reminds you that everything’s okay.

He would’ve fought the Demogorgon himself, if he could’ve. He would’ve shoved El out of the way and challenged the bastard to take him instead if it were possible just for the assurance that El would’ve made it out of there safe and okay.

He loves her.

Michael Wheeler is in love at 14 years old.

He just wishes he could’ve realized it sooner. He wishes he could’ve worked up the nerve and told her when she was still here 354 days ago, or before this whole ordeal with the Mind Flayer. There’d been a few times, in fact, when he caught himself almost signing off his radio calls to her with _Love you._

_Give me a sign you’re okay, El. I know you’re out there. I can feel it. I understand if you don’t feel safe, but it’s just me. It’s Mike. You can trust me. We’re friends, remember? Friends don’t lie. You can tell me if you’re feeling unsafe, alright? I’ll understand.  Love you._

Except he’d always say the _love you_ part in his head. It’d always be right there, right on the tip of his tongue, but even though part of him knew he was speaking to nothing but dead static he was too nervous to admit he loved her out loud. Every time he radioed for her, he always felt this presence in the air, like he was being watched, and if he had to place a blame for his confessions getting caught in his throat on anything it would be that constant presence in the air. Except this presence was hard to explain. It wasn’t a sense that he was in danger of being utterly embarrassed by Nancy, or his parents, or his friends showing up for their weekly round of D&D.  This presence was warm and comforting, like _she_ was there with him, like she could hear every word he was saying.

A few times, he _swore_ he could hear her voice coming out of the walkie talkie. Most of the time she’d just whisper his name, but in the recent weeks he thinks he could hear her whisper _I’m here._ But every time he tried to radio back, asking her to repeat what she said, he’d either be met with dead static or a frustrated Lucas telling him to _get off this channel._

He could even swear he felt her in the room a few times, too. He’d be sitting in the pillow fort, fiddling with the walkie talkie, hesitating on shutting it off _just in case,_ and all of a sudden he’d feel the ghost of something warm and soft brushing against his side. It always felt like someone was sitting beside him, resting their head against the crook of his neck, placing their hand on top of his. But every time he turned, every time he whispered her name and waited for a response back, there was never anything there.

He told Will earlier he thought he was going crazy. But he’s not missing at all that maybe the reason he’s going so crazy over missing Eleven is because he’s crazy _for_ Eleven. He loves her so much that he’s convincing himself she’s right there just so he can be with her again, just to pretend that he can hold her hand and lean against her even though he knows that if he actually tried he’d just topple over and look like an idiot.

That sure is a thought.

An eerie gurgling sound much too close for comfort yanks Mike from his thoughts, and he whips towards the sound, pathetic trophy raised in defense.

Well, if he’s going to die anyway, at least he’ll die knowing his last thoughts were about El.

That should count for something, right?

Another screech, this time towards the front windows and Mike scrambles backwards. He drops the trophy, and he’s too frozen, too petrified to reach down and pick it back up.

Not that it matters though, because despite everything he learned about these things last year, despite the fact that he knows they don’t hesitate for _anything,_ the fact that they know they’re hiding Will, they’re not attacking. There’s definitely angry screeching and scrambling and kicking coming from outside, but Mike’s sure they’re more than capable of shattering glass and attacking from the inside. But there’s _something_ preventing them from attacking, from jumping in through the windows and shredding everyone inside to pieces.

Or _someone,_ a small voice at the back of his mind says, and Mike’s heart twinges in hope at the thought.

...That hope is short lived, though, because as if those demons developed the ability to read his mind, one of the larger demodogs comes smashing in through the window and sprawling across the living room floor.  Mike jumps backwards, along with everyone else, and Hopper is the first to make a move towards it.

It’s just lying there, not doing anything, and if Mike knew any better he’d think something _(or someone, that small voice says again)_ killed it and flung it in through the window. But that’s what it probably _wants_ them to think, and the moment Hopper steps too close to it it’s going to kill him.

“Holy shit…” Dustin whispers, and Max walks to stand beside him.

“Is it dead?” she asks, and Hopper steps closer to it, refusing to put his gun down, and he kicks it in the throat, just to be sure. The thing flops over when Hopper kicks it, but other than that, the thing doesn’t move at all. Mike’s about to sigh in relief, but then there’s a creaking at the front door, and when everyone turns around they see that something’s managing to pick the lock from the outside.

Hopper steps towards the door with his rifle raised, just in case, when the lock flies off the door and it ever so slowly creaks open. Everyone freezes in place except for Hopper, who slowly lowers his rifle when _someone_ walks in through the door.

Is-

Is that-?

Mike’s feet are moving before he’s thinking about it, and he’s walking towards the figure standing in the doorway, if you can even call it walking at all. His knees are too shaky and his heart is pounding too much and he feels too lightheaded to walk any faster than a crawling pace towards the doorway.

And _there_ El is, standing in the doorway, wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt and a black coat that fit her much better than Nancy’s old dress, and her real hair is slicked back with some kind of gel, and it really hits Mike all at once just how much he _really_ missed her, and staring at her with his mouth agape is all he can really do to prevent himself from bursting into tears.

And when he and El lock eyes, it really hits him all at once just how much he _really_ loves her. He smiles at her, and she smiles back, and it’s just as adorable and warm and homey as he remembers, and in this moment he feels like everything is going to be okay.

If the situation were any lighter, if none of them were in any danger, he’d run to her arms and he’d tell her right here and now that he loves her, that he never wants to lose her again, but for now there isn’t enough time, and he’s still too light headed and euphoric to say much of anything of the sort anyway.

“E-Eleven?” he murmurs, and she nods, and Mike swallows hard as he yanks her into a tight hug.

“Mike” she breathes, wrapping her arms around him, burying her head into the crook of his neck, and he buries his face into her hair, not caring how it scratches his nose or how strong her hair product smells, because she’s here, she’s _really_ here, and all he wants to do right now is hold her and soak her in and just revel in the fact that they’re finally back together.

She grips onto him tightly, and she’s breathing heavily, like she’s finally able to breathe now that they’re back together again. She’s crying, Mike can tell she is, and he holds her just a bit closer to his chest before he tentatively pulls away from the hug. He kisses her on the cheek as he pulls away, and when he reaches his hands out to her she doesn’t hesitate for a moment before intertwining them in her own.

“I never gave up on you” he murmurs, and doesn’t care one bit that his voice is cracking with emotion.

Because he never did. Not a single night passed when he didn’t think of her, when he didn’t have trouble falling asleep because he was worried she was trapped in the Upside Down without a way to defend herself, without anyone to go home to if she ever escaped, without anyone to protect her from people who want to manipulate and hurt her for her powers. Every night he called her, every night for 353 days, and he would’ve for the rest of his life if he needed to.

“I called you every night” he beams. “Every night for-”

“Three hundred and fifty three days” El cuts him off, shaking her head, and her voice is cracking with thick emotion, too. Her smile softens to affection as she regards him. “I know” she says. “I heard”.


End file.
